The sun was beating me down as I exited the I-17 highway at 7th Ave. in my boots and dark jeans. The music was blaring and the bike felt good as I was stopped at the light waiting to make a right. I was feeling like a bad ass.
But if I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times: Pride comes before the fall. I think I’ve even written it.
I didn’t know what it was at first. Something just fell from the sky and made a splash. It happened so quickly. And then I looked down at the left side of my motorcycle gas tank. I’d been bombed. Some POS bird had nailed my bike and the shrapnel off the bird shit had speckled the bottom of my left pant leg as well as my boot from the knee down. Yup. Just when I was feeling like a total bad ass I was reduced to just another vehicle on the road that got pooped on by some bird who doesn’t know me from anything else.
The other day, while waiting for my former roommate and her girlfriend to go to a spring training baseball game, I was parked leaning up against my bike in a pretty empty lot under a bridge. There weren’t very many folks there, maybe two or three other cars closer to the other end of the lot.
A black couple in a convertible late model domestic car pulled up next to me to ask directions to Tempe Beach Park.
“Victory? What kind of bike is that?” The driver asked. I smiled in response and told him about the brand in brief.
“Damn! That bike is clownin’.” Which I’m fairly confident is a compliment. “I love the color, man. Keep riding that Victory!” And they drove off.
A man in an orange Honda Element drove up next to me.
“When you first came through the parking lot, I thought to myself, ‘That’s not the copper anniversary edition Harley. I don’t remember them making a Harley where the whole fairing was copper.’ Then I saw it was a Victory. How do you like that bike?” My inside voice was correcting him about the fact that the color of the bike is not copper. “We’ll that’s a beautiful bike. Have a nice day.”
How difficult is it for me to not associate my value as a person with the compliments I get on my motorcycle?
Pride goes before destruction,
a haughty spirit before a fall.
How funny is it that I make so much fun of BMW motorcycle riders (full disclosure: I rode a BMW R1200c for my first two bikes) and now I’m beginning to turn into that pretentious asshole. Calm down there, kid. It’s just an orange motorcycle.